


A Metaphorical Gesture

by cyparissus



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-13
Updated: 2011-12-13
Packaged: 2017-10-27 07:06:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyparissus/pseuds/cyparissus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sherlock, are you--" the words die in John's throat and he has to swallow and start again, "Are you asking me to marry you?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Metaphorical Gesture

**Author's Note:**

> I was in a bad mood so I wrote this to cheer myself up (it worked). I know there are already about a million marriage fics for these two, but, well, here's a million and one. Edited by me and not Brit-picked, I apologize for any errors.

After Sherlock Holmes sweeps into his life, John isn't sure why he continues to expect normal things to happen. Even only considering when they met, which was a spectacularly strange event, it is ridiculous to assume that anything to happen afterward would be any less strange. He supposes it must have something to do with enjoying the surprise, or maybe some deeply-seated desire for normalcy, though that would be a bit silly because if John has learned one thing about himself from Sherlock, it is that he does not desire normalcy.

  
So for some inexplicable reason John is surprised when Sherlock proposes. It's not so much the proposal that surprises him (though, really, _it is_ ), but rather the completely non-conventional (and therefore completely Sherlockian) way that he does it.

  
"Do you think we should?"

  
"Should what? Search the garden as well?"

  
Sherlock gives him that withering look that tells him he's not accurately following Sherlock's train of thought and John frowns in return. Seeing as they're currently searching a dusty attic for evidence, John isn't sure what else he could mean.

  
"Don't be daft, John. It would be convenient, seeing as how often one of us ends up in the hospital. And the legal implications could be useful."

  
John blinks, and then frowns again, because he has realized that this isn't about the case but he still can't be sure what Sherlock is actually talking about, and why he thought to bring it up during a case.

  
"Not to mention the tax cuts, and possible insurance benefits. And I--" at this Sherlock hesitates, looking towards John and then abruptly turning his head, as if he's nervous, "Well, I do not find myself wholly objectionable to the-- The more metaphorical meaning of the gesture." Sherlock's hands fidget with the line of his coat and John has an idea of what he means but no, certainly not. The silence stretches between them and Sherlock cuts his eyes over to John and then away just as quickly, and in that one look it comes together.

  
All of the blood in John's face abruptly drains away.

  
"Sherlock, are you--" the words die in John's throat and he has to swallow and start again, "Are you asking me to marry you?" Sherlock fidgets again and the color comes back to John's face in abundance.

  
"If you are adverse to the idea, if I have miscalculated something in your--"

  
"No! No," John starts and fumbles his way across the attic, catching Sherlock's hands in his and laughing breathlessly, "That's not what I meant, I just--" John pauses to take a deep, steadying breath, "You just surprised me."

  
Sherlock gives him a dubious look.

  
John opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again and looks down at their hands. He needs a moment, just a moment, to process this question because he is not Sherlock bloody Holmes and he is not a computer personified. Sherlock's grip on his hands tightens minutely, and John finds his voice.

  
"I just wasn't expecting-- I didn't think that was something you wanted." He looks up, finds gray eyes looking back at him, and they don't mock or dismiss, they just consider.

  
"It wasn't-- It wasn't something I was expecting to want. But then the reasons for doing so were very... logical. Sensible, even." Sherlock is speaking softly, words meant only for John, and they betray his pure logic. John smiles crookedly.

  
"It's not meant to be logical, though," John points out gently, and Sherlock winces a little.

  
"Yes, well, I do admit my reasons are not purely fueled by logic," Sherlock says, speaking slowly, as if the words are being wrung out of him like water from a rag. John raises his eyebrows in encouragement.

  
"The-- implications of matrimony are not unattractive to me. I enjoy having you in my life and I have no desires for anyone else, so I can see no harm in entering an agreement which solidifies those facts, in addition to the-- aforementioned logical reasoning to do so." Sherlock says and John can't keep the grin off his face, isn't quite lost in all the words Sherlock is building up around himself. John pulls his hands from Sherlock's just to grab his face and see the surprise there as he presses his lips firmly to Sherlock's. Sherlock seems a bit baffled but kisses back, his hands coming up to John's neck.

  
"You are an _idiot_ ," John says, right up against Sherlock's mouth, and they both grin.

  
"That didn't sound like an insult," Sherlock says, like they aren't carrying on a conversation between kisses.

  
"That's because it _wasn't_ ," John says, and if Sherlock had a snarky reply it's swallowed as they kiss more insistently. They take a long few minutes and kiss their way through them, just holding each other and enjoying the simplicity of it.

  
Eventually they slow, pull away and press their foreheads together.

  
"John," Sherlock says, voice pitched low and quiet, imploring an answer to the question he hadn't exactly managed to ask.

  
"Yes, of course, you daft prat," John whispers back, and he feels like he should be ashamed by the amount of affection showing in his voice but Sherlock smiles and he just can't be bothered. They kiss again, just because they can, and when John pulls away he glances over Sherlock's shoulder.

  
"Should we, er, go back to searching?" John says, and Sherlock starts and looks around as if he's forgotten what they were doing.

  
"Oh, yes," Sherlock says, but neither of them seems to be in a hurry to turn away from each other, so they let themselves stay wrapped up for a few minutes longer.

  
~

  
They don't talk about it again for two days, mostly because they're solving a mystery and running from people who want to injure them, and that isn't exactly the right time to be working out the details of your engagement.

  
John brings it up first, when they're laying in bed together after they get home, the sweat still cooling on their skin. They're on their sides, facing each other, when John sighs, big and blissful, and presses his face into Sherlock's neck.

  
"We're engaged, aren't we?" John says, and Sherlock pulls back to look him in the eye.

  
"Yes," Sherlock says slowly, "Assuming you still find the idea agreeable." John laughs and buries his head in Sherlock's neck again, which Sherlock doesn't find altogether reassuring.

  
"Of course I still find it agreeable. I just thought maybe I'd hallucinated the whole thing," John says and Sherlock makes a noise between a huff of laughter and derisive snort. They were quiet for a while, Sherlock tracing his hands over John's back and arms and John going boneless under the attention.

  
"We'll need witnesses," John said finally and Sherlock paused, considering, "Mycroft'd go spare if we didn't ask him." Sherlock made a face that John didn't have to see to know it was there.

  
"What did I say about using the M-word in the bedroom?" Sherlock says, sounding for all his years just like a petulant ten-year-old. John pulls back again and looks at him seriously.

  
"He's your brother, Sherlock, and besides, he's probably got the whole country on alert to not let us get married unless he's there."

  
"Oh, I suppose. But you're calling him." Sherlock gives his consent but still pouts.

  
"Agreed," John says with a little laugh and a kiss pressed to the corner of Sherlock's mouth, "Who else, then? Mrs. Hudson? Lestrade?"

  
"Lestrade, I think. Mrs. Hudson would insist on blubbering," Sherlock said, pulling another face that made John smile and kiss him again.

  
"Then that's settled. I'll call Mycroft and Lestrade, we sign a few papers and we're married," John said, reaching up to trace a thumb along the line of Sherlock's throat, "Unless... Did you want rings or something?" John tried to sound casual, like he didn't care either way, looking down at where he fit his palm against Sherlock's jaw.

  
"You want them," Sherlock said, and it wasn't a question, and when John looked up Sherlock was looking down at him with barely-concealed affection. He held John's hand on his jaw and turned his face into his palm, pressing his lips against the place where John's ring finger met his palm. Sherlock's whole attention was focused on John's palm, and John watched him for the long moment before he pulled back.

  
"I would not object to a material symbol of our marriage," Sherlock said finally and John grinned, pulling him down into a kiss.

  
"And you always say I'm the sentimental one," John said around the kiss and Sherlock hummed in response and nipped at John's bottom lip.

  
"My husband," John said, interrupting the kiss because he had to grin and Sherlock growled and pushed him onto his back and then rolled over to pin him down.

  
" _My_ husband," Sherlock countered, and when John laughed Sherlock huffed in annoyance and moved down to kiss his throat instead. John threaded his fingers through Sherlock's curls and pulled his head back up, and the warmth that Sherlock saw in John's eyes made his mouth go dry.

  
"I love you," John said, his voice soft and so _warm_ and perfect, and Sherlock had to duck his head and kiss John, soft and chaste and sweet. He had to duck his head and kiss _his husband_ , and that thought made something heavy unfurl in Sherlock's chest.

  
"I love you too, John."


End file.
